A Smoked Glass Crow
by csyphrett
Summary: Ezekial Stone has to contend with rivals as he hunts a murderer that rips the hearts out of his victims.


A Smoked Glass Crow

1

He made his way through the jungle. His copper face had been streaked with black ashes from the top of his hairline to his chin. He wore a loincloth he had fashioned when he had come to his senses.

A large black bird flew ahead of him like a herald. It called to him as if to say hurry up.

He followed until he saw torch light in the distance. He smiled to himself. This was where he needed to be. He could feel it. The bird headed right for the light as if following his thoughts.

He moved through the trees silently. Nocturnal animals shied from him as he walked among them. They knew what he was and wanted no part of him.

He paused in the dark to look up at the burning torches. His enemies were there. He could feel them. This was their last place to hide from him.

He started up the stairs. He had chased them across the jungle from their city of stone. He thought he had caught up with them, but they had sprang a trap and slowed him down as he pulled himself off the spikes. If they hadn't paused in the last village to grab one of the women, they might still be ahead of him somewhere.

He planned to make them pay for that mistake.

He paused at the edge of the light. His four enemies stood around a small altar. He realized this was a forgotten temple hidden away from the rest of the world. It was a perfect refuge for them if anyone but him had been chasing them.

The bird called from a tree to one side. The four men looked for it. They knew what it meant.

He stepped into the light on the other side of the circle. He frowned at the woman laying on the altar. That was what had awakened his return in the first place.

"I'm here for you." His voice was gravel and darkness. "It's time."

"We sacrificed you for the greater good." One of the priests turned, obsidian knife in hand. He wore the paint and jewelry of his office. "Be gone, spirit. Be gone to your place in the next world as the slave of Mictlantecuhtli."

"I'm afraid we have a difference of opinion on what the greater good was." He pressed forward, ash stripes giving his face a bird like semblance. "I'm here to express what I think the greater good is to you in a manner you will understand."

"You can't harry us like this." The priest with the knife looked at his fellows. "We serve the gods."

"I hope they protect you then." He strode forward, smiling at them. Fires burned in his eyes. "I serve the dead. They want to meet you."

The bird called out at his theatrics.

The priests moved to surround him. They weren't fighting men, but had experience laying someone open with the knives they wielded. The blades glowed in the light from the torches.

The hunter laughed at them. The laugh wasn't full of mirth, or good cheer. It was the laugh of someone who had seen someone he hated hurting themselves in an accident.

The priests stabbed at him with their glass knives. He ducked one, blocked the next, took a shallow cut along his ribs that healed almost immediately, and caught one of the arms trying to stab him. He took the knife away and stabbed the owner through the breastplate he wore. He kicked the body down the steps.

"Only three of you left." The dead man laughed again. "He went too quick. I will have to be more careful with you three."

One of the remainder charged while the other two broke for the steps. They knew they were facing something they never expected. They needed help to deal with this revenant.

He grabbed his attacker and spun him around. He took the man's knife and threw it at one of the fleeing priest's back as he tried to run down the steps. The blade sank into his shoulder, throwing him off his stride.

"This is what I felt as you took me apart." The dead man pressed his hand into the priest's face. "Enjoy the experience."

Images, feelings, pain coursed from the dead man into the living. The priest screamed until his vocal cords broke. He kept screaming even though he couldn't make a sound. A loose stone to the face stopped that for good. His body vanished into the trees below.

"You can't escape, cowards." The revenant's voice echoed across the jungle. "I'm coming for you. I'm coming to show you what you have called."

He plunged into the shadows as silently as the spirit he could have been. His bird flew overhead, a black shadow against the stars shining down.

The priests had separated. The wounded one would attract too much attention from the local wildlife. The last thing the uninjured one wanted was to face a panther in the dark because of the smell of blood. He veered right and ran as fast as he could in the dark. He heard the cry of the bird overhead, but kept running.

The ghost had already killed Cuixtli and Ocuil. He wanted to escape their fates.

A shadow dropped in front of him. He threw a punch and tried to keep running. Strong hands flung him to the ground. He looked up at the white face and black stripes. He didn't see mercy in the gleaming eyes.

"Fear is a grand thing, isn't it?" The dead man smiled. "It shows everything about you is not as strong as you thought."

"I'm not scared of you." The priest got to his feet. "I took your name. You will never get that back."

"You took everything." The revenant smiled. "I can only do the same to you."

The priest tried to punch again, swinging a lean arm overhand. His arm swept through the night. He paused at what he had experienced.

"I'm behind you." Fingers grabbed the third man's head. He screamed at the memories and pain flooding into his skull. "I wanted you to know what you had done."

Strong hands twisted the captured head around to look at the vengeful thing holding it. They released the dead man to fall to the grass.

The bird called overhead. It flapped its wings as it pointed to the last man fleeing for his life among the trees. It followed overhead as the priest ran for his life. Blood flowed down the man's back from the knife wound, but he didn't seem to feel the injury in his fear.

The dead man smiled. He ran into the jungle as swift as a deer. His enemy would probably keep running until he found some kind of sanctuary to take him in. No one expected a wounded man to be dangerous.

The last priest knew that the bird was keeping an eye on him. He couldn't help that. He had no means to kill it. He looked for a place to hide from its master.

"The night is not your friend." The voice drifted down from above.

The priest turned from the nearest trees. He made for a clearing where nothing could follow from above. Feet hit his wounded shoulder and he went down. He felt paralyzed from the fire coursing through his upper body.

"Look what I found." The dead man held up one of the glass knives used for sacrificing the enemies of the country for power from the gods. "It's already tasted you once. Let's give it more."

"You can't do this." The priest tried to crawl away. His efforts were ruined by his injured arm. "We did what we had to do to save the country."

"That's a better reason than the one I have." The dead man struck with the knife. A stripe opened in the priest's face before he could yank his head away. "All I have are the memories of a life I will never have now."

The bird called its displeasure as the revenant cut again and again. Blood dripped from the deep cuts all over the priest's body. None of them were enough to kill, only hurt.

The bird called again. It was time to finish its mission. The dead had to return to the land beyond to walk in the fields of the promised. Vengeance should be served expeditiously.

"Close your eyes." The revenant demanded. "Close them if you want mercy."

The priest did as he was told. He had no choice. He was cut everywhere. His blood covered the ground in a pool being lapped by the grass. The best he could hope for was a wild animal coming along and eating him after he had died.

The knife flashed through the air one more time. The priest fell back. A terrible gash had been opened in his neck. The rest of his blood choked him as he bled out on the ground.

The dead man sat with his back to the nearest tree. He closed his eyes as he waited. He felt the other side calling him back. He smiled.

His wife waited for him to return. He saw her face as he walked across the bridge of clouds. All of his pain dropped behind him like the outer husk of an onion. The beating of wings conveyed him to his rest.

The crow flew into the sky, happy that its burden was released. It had other spirits to accompany in other places.

It had brought a spirit to put the wrong thing right. It had helped the world in its own way.

The jungle came to life with the sun beating down on the world. The woman woke in the forgotten temple. She had some idea where she was. She pushed off the table and walked down the stairs. Home couldn't be far away.

She ignored the drawing of a bird on one of the trees. She had seen something strange in the night before she had succumbed to whatever was in the drink she had been forced to drink. It looked like a giant crow. She didn't need reminders of the nightmarish vision.

She looked up at the sky. She started through the jungle. She hoped she was going the right way, but decided there was enough wild fruit growing that she could live off that until she got home.

She hoped her captors got what they had deserved for taking her from her home and family.

That would be justice.

2

Zeke Stone stood in the sun. Dressed in black, he looked like a red headed shadow. He had his hands in his pockets as he watched the scene across the street.

Police directed traffic around whatever was at the center of their attention. Lab techs in their overalls had already gone in with equipment boxes.

He was curious about what was going on.

"Hello, Ezekial." A jaunty figure in golfing clothes cut into his study. "What draws your attention?"

"Just curiosity." He glanced over at his employer. "Going to hit a few?"

"I have a standing invitation at the club." The Devil smiled. "I take it you're going to get involved."

"Maybe." Stone turned his attention back to the crime scene. "This has that smell about it."

"Good luck, but don't forget your real task." The Devil had vanished before he could offer a rejoinder.

Stone had been offered a deal, and he had taken it. He had been released to track down one hundred of the vilest inmates that had escaped from Hell. If he succeeded, he would get a chance at another life on Earth. If he failed, back to the pit he went.

The Devil didn't like to be beaten.

This had the same feel as one of the inmates' crimes. They tended to go back to what they did in life. Most of them did. He had made a bad enemy out of the one that had proven the exception to the rule and he hadn't caught up with her yet.

He walked across the street to talk to the uniform ushering people along. Maybe he could get some kind of information before the detective who had landed the case told him to beat it.

"How's it going?" Stone flashed his badge. "What happened?"

"It's another one of those Heartless murders." The uniform whispered as he waved some of the pedestrians on. "Third one."

"Who's in charge?" The Heartless Murders had been designated such by the papers and television because of the carving and extraction of the victim's heart. Maybe he could get some kind of inside track if the detective was willing to tell him something.

"Coats and Krozak." The uniform nodded at two men in ties and shirt sleeves watching the lab boys.

Stone winced. Those two would never share information. They were in the business for perfect arrest records and talks about being the perfect cop. They wouldn't want his help, and he couldn't tell them the truth.

Hello, I track down fugitives for the Devil. I think this might be one of them. Can you give me any clues that might help me? I'll shoot them in the eyes and you will never see them again, unless they escape from Hell a second time.

He just didn't see that earning him any good will.

"Thanks, Kiel." Stone nodded at the uniform before turning and walking down the street. If he wanted to hunt the killer down, he would have to do it outside of the local department.

It wasn't anything new. Being dead brought on challenges just in trying to figure out if he should buy a taco from a street vendor, or splurge on a fancy meal somewhere. Thirty dollars and change tended to cause those types of dilemmas.

And a credit card for a dead man was an impossibility as far as he was concerned.

He walked along, slouching in his coat as he thought. He needed more information. He needed it to figure out what the pattern was so he could get ahead of things. So far he had nothing to go on, and no way in to the department.

He decided to try the local newspapers at the library. Maybe that would get him something to work on.

He would love to have just one of those pains in the neck just give himself up and be done with it.

He considered Ash, and wondered where she had gone. He wanted to deal with her more than anything. She was the most dangerous of the one-one-three.

The ones he hadn't caught must be underground with her, pursuing her master plan. Until he cut across their trail, he had to content himself with the loose cannons in her organization.

He caught the bus at the next stop. He rode along, looking out the window. What could he do with a second chance? What did he want to do? How badly would he screw that up?

He wondered if he was the only one out there on the prowl. He had met Johnny Blaze and his other side. Who else was hunting things in the night?

Did he really want to meet them?

He got off the bus and walked over two blocks to where he could see the library in the distance. He slouched down the street. Other pedestrians veered away from him. He supposed it was because he looked like a bum.

He needed to talk to the Devil about allowing him to keep new clothes. He knew he would be denied. The Prince of Lies didn't want him to sleep. A wardrobe was out of the question for the cheap jerk.

He walked into the library and headed for the back of the building. An alcove was there for newspapers. Today's discovery wouldn't be in it, but the other murders would be covered.

Los Angeles had a surfeit of killers within its city limits. He could spend eternity trying to bag them all. The one hundred he had left was all he could do for the city. Someone else would have to thin the homicidal herd.

Stone pulled the last few days worth of papers from their holders and read any story he could find about the Heartless murders. He made notes in his notebook. Any little detail could turn into an unexpected break in the case.

He needed to get a hold of the autopsy reports. That would tell him more about what had been done to the victims other than cutting their hearts out.

The police always held some detail back from the public. The fact that the most important detail had leaked wasn't proof of anything. One person who had seen the victims before the police could have let that slip by accident.

The missing hearts reminded him of something. He put the thought in the back of his head. It would come to him eventually.

He needed to look at the bodies. Coats and Krozak would like to keep him out of the morgue. He considered his options as he thought about what he had to do.

He supposed he could break in and look for himself. No one was likely to be there at night. He would have to look out for security while he was checking the files.

The detectives would throw the book at him if he was caught.

Stone decided to walk the miles to the coroner's office. It would kill time and allow him to mull over his options.

His targets came from across the world, and across time. He must have read about the M.O. in a history book. That would explain why he couldn't remember the specifics. How many ancients ripped the hearts out of their victims?

He put that on his list of things to look up after he had looked at the bodies. He had a feeling it would narrow down his search.

Night fell as he spotted the white block of the morgue. He frowned at the fence and checkpoint as he considered how he could break in.

He knew the building had to be unlocked due to pickups in the night. The meat wagon would have to go through the checkpoint and to the loading dock to unload the bodies. It could serve as a distraction while he entered his own way.

His time in Hell had made him extremely strong and fast. He should be able to get over the fence in nothing flat.

He glanced at the guard on duty. The man was buried in a book. He seemed unconcerned that someone was watching him from down the block.

Stone shook his head. He grabbed the fence and pulled himself up to the barbed wire at the top. He hung his coat over the strands before using it to vault over the triple strands. He pulled the coat loose from the ground and walked toward the loading dock.

The dock was empty. He had an unknown amount of time before the ambulances returned with their expired passengers. He needed to make the most of it.

Stone walked into the office area on the lookout for doctors, and attendants. He doubted the body from that morning would be ready to be operated on. He pulled open the filing cabinets and flipped through the folders until he saw two likely candidates.

He was quietly surprised at the amount of dead people floating through the system. He put it out of his mind to concentrate on what he needed to carry his own crusade. A man could chase every murderer in the city for the rest of his life.

He checked the files for photos. The heartless hole was there. Writing was on the limbs. He didn't know what it meant. He needed to consult an expert on that. He made a copy of the writing. Maybe he could find an expert to tell him what it meant.

He knew a guy in New York. Maybe the doctor could tell him what was what.

He had no illusion that the detectives weren't trying to do the same thing with their greater resources.

He just thought he was better than them.

And his contact was an expert in dead languages.

He put everything back where he found it. He felt bad about the victims, but held it in check. He would punish the murderer even if the man wasn't one of his. No one could be allowed to get away with what had been done to these people. You couldn't even tell that they had been human from the pictures.

He took a moment to look around the office before he left. He couldn't catch every murderer, but he planned to catch this one and put him down like a mad dog. It was the kind of feeling that had led to the killing of Gilbert Jax and his damnation.

He didn't care.

Stone walked the empty corridors and hit the exit. He check the guard. The man was still engrossed in his book. The dead man walked to the fence and climbed over it the same as he had entered. He needed to walk off his anger.

The picture might be a good clue if he could figure out what language it was in. He checked his watch. Someone should be up in New York to talk to him.

He needed a fax machine and a phone.

He hoped Egon was in the office. Otherwise he would have to wait until morning for a callback. He wondered how long he had before another heartless body showed up.

Things were moving in the dark. He had to be ready to move with them.

He found a place that had a sign in the window that advertised free faxes. He went in. He didn't have a fax number.

"Can I use your phone?" Stone looked around the store. He seemed to be alone in the place.

"Sure." The clerk grabbed the phone off its charger and handed it over.

Stone got the number from Information. He dialed and let the phone ring until a tired voice picked up.

"Ghostbusters." The voice belonged to a stranger.

"Is Egon in?" Stone hoped he had called the right organization. How many ghostbusters could there be in the country? "I need some help."

"He's out on a call." The voice perked up. "This is Dr. Raymond Stantz. Maybe I can help you."

"I have a picture of a word in a foreign language. I need to know what language it is. Do you have a fax number." Stone took down the number. He put the picture and some change in the fax machine and dialed. The sender chirped as it worked to send the paper out the slot on the other side of the machine.

"I got it." Stantz paused. "I don't know what it says off hand, but it's Aztec. I recognize the pictogram."

"Pictogram?" Stone looked at the picture again. It did look more like a drawing than letters. "Can you translate it? I'll call you back this time tomorrow."

He hung up.

3

Far to the south of Los Angeles, a black bird landed on a tree branch. It looked around the jungle, mostly unchanged in the hundreds of years that had happened since the last time it had sat on this same branch. It croaked its summons.

Bones knitted themselves back together, musculature covering the framework as the calcium appeared out of the Earth. Skin and hair grew over the plaiting of muscle and tendon. Finally the thing breathed and opened its eyes.

"Why have you called me back?" The dead man glared at the crow. "I was happy."

The bird glared at him before calling again. It flew off in the trees. It didn't want to call one of its avengers back, but the vengeance had come undone. It was a necessary move to redress this imbalance.

The dead man padded after his summoner. While he could see what the crow saw, he couldn't talk to it and learn its motivations. He would have to follow and earn his retirement again.

He put the best face on the situation, to hide his anger and fear. The crow had a task to do. It was singleminded in that. And complaining about the rage filling him up again after he had shed it would do no good.

He could wait in the place of his second death, or follow the bird as it flew and find out why he had been called again.

He followed, blinking against the harsh light of the sun.

The dead man walked north after the crow. He didn't need to sleep, or eat. And the night was just like day thanks to his new vision of the world. He paused when he reached the first village on the edge of the jungle. He noted the strange clothes and artifacts everywhere, but knew his knowledge was limited to what the world had been like when he had died.

He needed to question someone and find out what was going on.

The crow landed on a clothesline. It called to him. He smiled slightly.

He pulled some of the clothes from the clips, ignoring the feelings embedded in them. He pulled them on with some effort. Now he looked like one of the living. He could blend in and move among them without arousing suspicion.

No one liked a dead man.

The crow flew off, cutting through the village. It still held a northerly course. He followed in the dark, faster and more enduring than a normal man.

He saw the first modern city and worked his way through the back alleys. He frowned at how blind the people were around him. That much hadn't changed in the time he had been gone.

One of the pettier criminals tried to rob him with a knife. He laughed as he broke the man's hands after taking the knife away. He dropped the man into a trashcan and kicked it out in the street. Luckily for the mugger, traffic was light and the cars that was going to hit him braked just in the nick of time.

The crow scolded him for his extravagance. It flapped its wings and glided along the rooftops. It still had a duty to dispense with beyond causing petty criminals to rethink their lives.

The dead man smiled at its impatience. It wasn't like he knew how to use the sleds that littered the streets he crossed.

The crow settled on a giant white box and called to him. He heard the box roar but had already learned to pay it no mind. It was a sled like the others, only bigger. He ran and grabbed the back of it. He pulled himself to the roof and sat down.

The dead man watched the road unwind in front of him. He was traveling far from his former home. Why? What was ahead? Was it the reason he was alive again?

He put aside the questions. Answers would come sooner or later. He had been called back for a reason, and the reason was revenge. He just didn't know on who he was supposed to act.

He spent his time listening to the world. The sled, the bus, belonged to Northerners. He listened to their language, trying to learn it. He sensed his destination lay deep in their lands, and they seemed peaceful at the moment.

The world had changed more than he would have thought since he had died again.

The crow flew off when the bus reached a set of gates across the road. It perched on a bigger sled heading in the same direction as the Northerners he was riding with. He climbed to his feet and ran down the length of the bus and leaped. He landed on the other sled gently and sat down.

Guardians in tan uniforms talked to the drivers of the sleds. Some they nodded at and directed through the gates. Others were asked to the pull to the side. And a very few had a dog trying to eat them. The guards pulled those people out and threw them on the ground.

His sled was passed through with a minimum amount of bother. He watched the land roll by, the crow silent by his side. It watched the road, looking for something to show it where to go.

When the sled turned east, the crow took flight. It soared along the smooth road.

The dead man jumped from the back of his carrier. He landed on the side of the road. He started running after the bird. He needed to keep up with his companion.

The bird glided to a place full of the sleds and pale people. He noted that some of them were copper like himself, or a mix. He paused at the thought that his empire had been overwhelmed by ghost people.

The crow dropped on a set of boxes. It pecked at one of the boxes.

He bent down and looked at the clear front of the thing. A paper was clipped inside. He couldn't read the writing, but instinctively knew this was where he was supposed to go. This was why he had been summoned back from his afterlife.

He touched the box. Visions of things filled his head. He picked up some of the words as they were being spoken by people buying the papers with their strange currency. He noted the place was known as Los Angeles.

He memorized the spelling. He had seen signs with numbers beside them. He realized now that they were names of destinations. And Los Angeles lay to the north of where he stood.

He looked around the place and things snapped together to allow him to comprehend the future a little better. He also realized that he wouldn't be around long enough to care about this modern world.

Once his mission was done, he would return to his beloved. That was the way of the crow, and it was what he wanted.

His time had come and gone. He had no more place here than his enemies. He knew that.

He stood and looked at the bird. It looked back at him. Then it croaked to tell him to hurry up.

"Lead on." He waved a hand for it to proceed, but he already knew the way. Los Angeles lay in the north. He no longer needed the bird to get him there. He needed it to locate his enemies so he could deal with them again.

He planned to make this execution stick.

He headed down to the highway and began jogging along the shoulder. He knew he could run faster if he wanted, but fell into the steady pacing of his life out of a habit he remembered. He watched the cars as they roared by. They were moving much faster than he was. Maybe he should try to grab one and ride it the rest of the way north.

He saw one of the big trucks coming down the road. He knew from experience it would have to slow to climb any hill in front of it. He jogged forward, waiting for it to slow down. As it passed him, he jumped in the space between the truck and the trailer. He sat down and watched the hours slip by.

He hadn't been able to read the writing on the paper, but he had a feeling the front page story was what the crow had wanted him to see. He thought that it tied in with his resurrection.

The crow called as it took flight. It soared away from the truck, heading into the jungle of lights the vehicle rolled through.

The dead man stood on his rolling platform. He looked to make sure he wasn't going to jump in front of an innocent. Then he jumped off the truck. He landed on the shoulder, ripping up his feet some. He started walking as his toes scabbed over.

They were healed by the time he dropped off the side of the highway to the road below. Then he had to stumble along until his legs quit bending at awkward angles. He kept to the shadows as he followed the crow across the city.

He watched it as it cast about for a scent. Finally it gave up and settled in to a roost in a square house behind a stone fence. He jumped the wall and headed for the door. He found it open. He went inside and stumbled at the visions that assaulted his mind.

"It's them." He sat in a chair and tried to push the old memories from his mind. "That's why you summoned me again. It's them."

The crow croaked at him. It danced on a table in the middle of the room. A folder holding pictures fell over at a touch from its wing.

He stood and walked over to look at the pictures. A man and woman, husband and wife perhaps, smiling at whomever took the image for them. He knew they were dead.

That was how his enemies conducted their business. They didn't even have the excuse of serving their gods now. They were the only ones who believed in the old ones from what he had seen of this modern world.

His eyes burned with hate as he thought about the four priests. He would deal with them again. Maybe this time they would stay dead.

4

The grave's occupant pushed aside the dirt. He reached out one hand to grab the grass on one side of the collapsing pile. He moved his other hand over and pulled. The dirt cascaded off his back as he jerked out of the grave and lay on the grass.

He sucked in the air. His memory seemed to be nothing but rage and darkness. He couldn't even remember his name as he gasped like a beached fish.

A crow on a tombstone called to him. It called again, waiting for him to look at it.

He pulled himself to his feet. He staggered to the tombstone. Two names ran side by side on the granite. He wondered if he was Tom Kim. He rubbed his face with a dirty hand. He decided he must be.

He looked at the open grave. That was going to be hard for someone to explain. He smiled. Good thing he didn't have to worry about it.

He touched the marker to steady himself. Images of people leaving flowers for him filled his head. A woman cried. An old man comforted her with a stoic face and sad eyes.

"I'm sorry." He took his hand off the stone. "You can't see me like this."

He turned and staggered away from the site. He heard a crinkle in his pants pockets. He checked and found a packet of colorful bills. He smiled.

His parents had buried him with Hell Money. He dropped the bills on the grass as he walked toward the metal fence around the graveyard. He didn't need that either.

And he admitted he didn't plan to give it to his killers to make their afterlife better after he was done hunting them down.

He smiled. That was what he was doing. He was going to hunt his killers down and return the favor.

How many others got that chance? He supposed not many. Something like that would make the news. Undead monster kills villain: film at eleven.

He stumbled to the fence. He worked his way down to the open arch that was the gate and stepped on the sidewalk. He touched the metal support rod and saw the cavalcade that was his and Rin's procession. He pulled his hand away and started down the street.

The crow followed, soaring from perch to perch. It knew where he was going, even if he didn't.

He was going to where he had been killed and his beloved had been tortured. He was going there to track down his killers. Then he was going to express the rage inside his heart.

He would show them the monster they had created.

He felt stronger after a few minutes of walking. At least the world didn't lurch to one side, or the other, when he took a step. He looked across the area, trying to decide on directions.

The way he was going, it would be daylight before he reached his destination. He couldn't reach home either. He needed a closer target so he could hole up until the next night. He also needed to find some way to get around faster.

Los Angeles was too big to simply walk across.

He needed a car if he wanted to move with anything like real speed.

He decided that he could hide over his parents' store. The place was close, he had the alarm code, and he knew where his parents hid the key so he could get inside. No one went to the attic as far as he could recall.

He admitted his memory of his old life was spotty. His intended hiding place could be the new Grand Central. He decided to at least look at it.

He checked the street, and crossed to go to his right. He used the buildings to steady himself so he didn't look like a drunk on a holiday. He tried not to look like a drunk on holiday.

Several toughs he didn't recognize got in his way. He frowned at them. He supposed that he had been out of the neighborhood for too long.

"What's the problem?" The leader approached with a grin. "Drink too much?"

"Been dead too much." He smiled, lines of grave dirt running down his face. "That's a nice coat you're wearing."

The tough looked down at the jacket he was wearing. It was a sports jacket for the Baltimore Ravens. Their logo and team name decorated the front of it.

The crow called from a roof top. This was a delay, and it wasn't interested in civil talk between a dead man and someone who could be a dead man in the next few minutes.

"I took it off a guy at the airport." He grinned. "He was happy to hand it over."

"I want you to hand it over to me." The dead man held out a hand. "What do you say?"

"I think the only thing I'm handing over to you is a beating." The tough looked at his friends. They looked as surly as he felt.

The crow called. It flapped its wings as it hopped around. It carried the rage and sorrow of the dead. It knew what kind of monsters that it unleashed on the world to carry out their revenge.

The tough went down. One of his legs had snapped like an old tree limb. The dead man slammed his face in the sidewalk with a casual move.

The dead man took the jacket and dropped his own funeral jacket on the thug. The others in the gang glared at him. They had seen a blur and their leader was sucking the payment.

"I'm not here for you." The revenant checked the fit of the jacket. It was loose and roomy, but that was okay with him. "I'm only here for four specific men. Go back to your looting and pillaging with no fear as long you don't cross me. As soon as you get in my way, I will ruin you for anything but drooling at nurses because you will be stuck with tubes sticking out of your noses."

They looked at each other. Should they rush this crazy? Should they back off? No wanted to be the first to go to the emergency room.

"Are you going to stand there all night?" The late Tom Kim placed his hands in the pockets of his new jacket. "I don't have that much time."

Two of the gang grabbed their leader and pulled him up. They winced at his bloody face. They backed up quietly.

"The next time you see me, you'll know better." Tom advanced. "I'll leave the jacket somewhere when I'm done with it. Thanks for the loaner."

The gang split apart to let him pass. The glares they gave him meant nothing. They weren't the people he wanted to talk to. They were lowlifes who had never seen a walking dead man before. Hopefully they wouldn't see another any time soon.

It might be the last thing they see.

He felt much better. Maybe he should beat the rest of them up to vent some of the rage he felt. He looked at them as he passed. They knew something was wrong. He could feel it. It made them afraid.

But they didn't attack. That was what he wanted, but instead they loaded their leader in a car to take away. Most watched him. He wouldn't catch them unawares. That was what they thought. It wasn't true as far as he was concerned.

He could kill them all whether they saw him coming, or not.

The crow soared to the next alley. He turned and cut through to the next block. He smiled when he saw his parents' store. He hoped they hadn't changed his code since he died.

They would be extremely embarrassed talking to the police about why he was still alive.

He went into the alley next to the store. He felt along the wall until he found a loose brick. He pulled it out. A key sat beneath it. He took the key and unlocked the back door. He jogged to the front of the store and entered his old code in the pad. The light blinked to green.

He locked the back door and looked around. Memories plagued him of Rin as he looked at the empty rows between the shelves. They taunted him with his death. He closed his eyes and sat behind the counter.

He let the memories fill him. They were why he had to finish what he was supposed to do as fast as possible. He should be out there tracking the four murderers down. He should be enacting justice on them.

He thought of Rin instead. He thought of her hair and the way it flipped around when she moved too fast. He thought of her laugh. He thought of those stupid ducks she loved to feed. He smiled at the memory of the one chasing her for a handout.

Tears muddied the grave dirt on his face. He went to the store bathroom and washed his face properly. He looked in the mirror, and saw all the futures that had been taken from him. He grabbed the edges so he wouldn't smash it.

He smiled at the face looking back at him. The other face didn't want to smile back. He couldn't blame it.

"I'll be with you soon, Rin." He turned from the mirror. "I just have this one thing to do first."

He went to the counter area. He jumped on the counter and reached up. He grabbed a ring in the ceiling and pulled down a ladder. He climbed up into the space and pulled the ladder up after him. He crawled to the vent overlooking the street and waited.

The memories didn't seem so bad as he watched the street outside. He closed his eyes and willed himself to wait with patience. When the sun went down, he would do what he was supposed to do. The four murderers wouldn't walk around for much longer.

He just had to avoid his parents until he was done. He couldn't explain what he had become. It went against everything they had taught him. Peace was not a condition of this new existence. It was a reward for when he was done with his duty.

And they wouldn't approve of that duty.

They wanted the law to work. They wanted the police to solve every case, catch every crook. Personal vengeance was not something they ascribed to.

What he was now was personal vengeance in the flesh. They would never understand that. They would want him to turn aside from his quest. He couldn't do that.

They might as well ask the crow that brought him back to life to turn white and sing the opera.

He closed his eyes and waited for the moving of the sun.

5

Ezekial Stone had inspected the murder sites, gone over everything the press knew, read everything about Aztecs and Mesoamerica that he could find. He still didn't have a clue on how to find this murderer.

And he was sure the killer was part of the 113. The methods and signature pointed to one of the old men set loose on the world again.

How did he narrow his search? He didn't have enough victims to say the killer limited his hunting to a neighborhood. How had he picked the couples? What did they have in common?

The couples appeared to be happy, recently married, or together. Age was between twenty and thirty, so fairly young. What did they mean to an Aztec freed from Hell?

What did he expect to do by killing people in the modern age?

Maybe he thought the world was going to end if he didn't carve some kids up. One of the other fugitives sacrificed boys to prevent the end of the world.

Stone had a feeling this was going to be the same type of case.

He checked his watch. He had a few hours before he could call New York. How could he spend his time?

He decided to visit the Kims. They were the parents of one of the second murders, Tom Kim. Maybe they could point him in the right direction that Tom's neighbors couldn't.

How many more would die before he could track his target down?

Zeke headed into the neighborhood, noting the Chinese characters everywhere. He moved like a shadow among the pedestrians sharing the sidewalk with him. He found the Kim residence off a side street. He knocked, but no one answered. He walked back to the sidewalk. He decided to try the store they owned.

The paper had covered the Kims as local pillars of the community, stating their business. They were regarded as close to saints among the people reporters talked to about the murders.

He found the place after a brief walk through the streets. It resembled an Old West general store made of brick. Bars had been placed over the windows and doors to divert burglars to other places.

He stepped inside, examining the neat shelves and tile floor. A small red dragon banner hung over the counter. He nodded at an older lady, dark hair graying, glasses, and a simple dress. Some of the neighborhood kids stood around.

All of them glared at him.

"How's it going?" Zeke flashed his badge. "Could I talk with you, Mrs. Kim?"

"We ain't got nothing to say to cops." One of the kids tried to get in Zeke's face, but he was too short. "Get out of here."

"Don't have anything to say to cops." Zeke gave him a smile. "I'm looking into Tom Kim's death. Unless you did it, I suggest you let me do what I have to do."

The kid glared, but Stone simply smiled at him. Intimidating walking dead men took a special knack that most living people just didn't have.

"I will talk to you." Mrs. Kim gestured for him to come forward. "I have already talked to the other officers."

"I'm chasing down something else, Mrs. Kim." Stone put his hands in his coat pockets as he walked forward. "Did Tom know anyone in Mexico, or visit there recently?"

"No." She shook her head. "His work was in home decoration. The only times he has left the country was when we visited Hong Kong."

"There was that club thing." The kid spoke up. "He got us in the first night for free."

"That was a decorating job." Mrs. Kim frowned. "It was called the Hummingbird. I remember that now. It was one of Tom's biggest jobs. We all pitched in and helped him with it."

"Hummingbird?" Stone looked around. The crowd nodded in affirmative for the most part. "What made you think of that?"

"It had all these feathered dragons. A fake pyramid was set up in the center of the dance floor." The kid smiled. "The sound system rocked."

"You have an address?" Stone knew that one of the old gods had been called a hummingbird. This might be the right place.

They gave him a number on the edge of Beverly Hills.

"The owners were some Indians." The kid said, before Zeke could leave. "I remember Tom talking to one of them."

"Indians?" Zeke thought maybe Aztecs and Indians would look alike.

"The kind John Wayne shot all the time." The kid made a six gun out of his hand.

"Got it." Stone smiled. It fit in with dealing with Aztecs. "Was his wife there with you guys during this remodeling?"

"No." Mrs. Kim didn't look like she approved of her daughter-in-law. "She worked for the city."

"Thank you for the time." Stone turned to leave.

"Someone dug up my son's grave." Mrs. Kim called to him. "Did you know about that?"

"No." Stone frowned. "When?"

"This morning." She wiped her eye. "They took his body."

"What about the wife?" This was a new wrinkle. He had no idea why they would want the body after ripping it apart so thoroughly.

"Rin's was okay." The kid broke in. "What do you plan to do about it?"

"I'm going to find the man responsible." Stone looked around the room. "And he is going to be punished for his crimes."

The way he said that simple statement made them draw back. While he hadn't stated his plan, the hidden intention was street justice.

They were all familiar with that in that part of the city.

"If I have any more questions, I'll come by to talk to you." He stepped out in the setting sun.

He doubted that his killer took the body. The first two victims were still in the ground. He had went by their graves already, and the third couple should still be in autopsy. Another guy was out there. What did he want with the body? Why only take Tom Kim's?

He decided to concentrate on the club. If his killer was there, that was where he had to be too.

He didn't expect to find Tom's corpse at the place, but stranger things had been known to happen to him.

He headed down the street, hooking on the back of a bus as it rolled from the curb. He really needed to get a car. Los Angeles was too big to walk around in search of supernatural monsters.

Too bad he couldn't get a car with thirty nine dollars.

He jumped off the bus in time to make the transfer to one heading up to the Hills. He settled in the back seat and watched the streets roll by. At one point, he thought he saw a black bird winging along, but dismissed it.

He had a murderer to catch. Bird watching had to wait until he had less important things to do.

"Not a good sign, Ezekial." The Devil leaned over to look out the window. "Looks like someone else is on the field."

"I will shoot the bird if I have to." Stone smiled.

"It's not the bird, it's what the bird represents." The Devil smiled thinly. "It represents revenge, something I am sure you are familiar with."

"Never heard of it." Stone looked out the window. "Someone wants revenge for these murders? Makes sense."

He looked around. He shook his head. The Devil had left him alone on the bus.

He pushed the stop button when he saw his street coming up. He felt like his hunt had become a race. Then he decided it didn't matter as long as the 113 were put away.

The bus slowed as it approached the next stop. It pulled to a curb with a blowing of air and wheezing. Stone got off. He headed toward a glow on the strip.

He needed to get a look at this Indian. This might be an easy job for once.

He approached the door. Two big hulks stood there to keep the riffraff out. They glared down at him as he jumped to the front of the line.

"Is your boss in?" Zeke flashed his badge. "I wanted to talk to him about Tom and Rin Kim."

"They're not here." One of the hulks said. "Anything else?"

"Did you know the Kims?" Stone had his hands in his pockets as he regarded them.

"No." The bouncer smiled down at him. "Why don't you move along?"

Stone smiled, scratching his eyebrow. He passed himself off as a cop, so people thought he obeyed the rules. He wanted to go in, and these two guys wanted to bar his way.

"Why don't you move out of my way so I can ask the rest of the staff my questions?" Stone let his hands hang down at his side. "Then I won't have to mess you two up for getting in my way."

"Got a warrant?" The bouncers moved to block the door. They smiled down at him like twin Hercules.

Stone lashed out. The one on the right felt incredible pain shoot through his midsection. He squeaked like a mouse and crumpled to the sidewalk. The other bouncer moved at this sudden threat, but found himself looking at the wrong end of a pistol.

"Don't get in my way again." The dead man glared at the load of muscle. "Understand?"

The doorman nodded his head slightly. He held his hands up. He hadn't even seen the gun before it pointed at his head.

Stone walked inside, putting the pistol away. He didn't plan to ask questions. He just planned to look around. A little talk with the owners would okay, but not in front of witnesses.

He didn't like knowing that more than one man owned the club. A group of escapees would be a lot harder to take down than one. And one was bad enough on his own if he had been in Hell as long as Zeke thought from his research.

The exterior had been beige with pastel colors in stripes and ribbons. The interior was lit by a starfield in the ceiling. A small pyramid sat in the middle of the dance floor. A ring of tables and the bar circled the room. Restrooms were off the foyer where he stood taking in the scene. Gentle music drifted down from the speakers hidden above the room.

Lots of people were in the space, drinking too much, snacking a little, dancing some. He didn't see anyone who looked like an Indian. He also didn't see a space for an office.

Maybe the bartenders would be more helpful than the bouncers.

"Hey!" Zeke pushed to the bar. He flashed his badge. "Is your boss around?"

"Rooney is the manager on deck." The bartender pointed down to a guy in a suit watching the flow of alcohol. "The owners come in when they want."

"Thanks." Zeke sidled through the crowd to talk to Mr. Rooney.

6

He followed the crow in stolen clothes. This new world was nothing like he had envisioned when he was living. One thing hadn't changed. People still wanted to be amused.

He paused at the line of people waiting to get into the building the crow was watching. They all appeared to be too pale to him, with some exceptions who were too dark. How much did he want to spread his sorrow around to these strangers.

He decided the best way to do things was to go around back. There had to be more than one way to get in, and he wouldn't have to hurt the two men watching the door. He saw them talking to a man in black who appeared to be looking for something just as he was.

He cut through the line, ignoring the traces of memory that clung to him. He headed into the darkness caused by blocking the sign with alley walls. He found a ladder that led up to the roof. He pulled himself up to the roof like a shadow.

He walked over to a skylight. The glass was painted over from the inside. Apparently they didn't want natural light flowing down inside the building, or only wanted it at certain times.

He could smash through but why bother. He didn't have an idea of where his quarry was, even if he suspected who. The deaths he had seen looked too much like his own to be a coincidence.

He decided not to smash in the skylight. He didn't know what was beneath it. His mission was to extract revenge, not kill innocents.

He moved to the end of the roof. He saw no other entrance to the cube. He might have to go inside through the front door. That would mean hurting the guards.

How far was he prepared to spread his pain to others who weren't responsible?

He realized, not for the first time, that he was willing to do anything to punish those that had killed his wife and himself. Anyone in his way was an obstacle to be removed as fast as possible.

He knew that it was wrong, but he couldn't conceive of compromising his position. He had been brought back to inflict punishment. Anyone that tried to stop him would be dealt with as quickly as possible.

The crow called in the night. Another bird answered from the next building over. They called to each other in a semblance of old men talking. Then the other bird appeared on the rampart of the roof, glaring at the dead man and his companion.

A young man wearing black leaped from the other roof. He landed gently, with a swirl of the jacket he wore. Black stripes covered burning eyes and cheeks.

The dead man had similar stripes running down the front of his face.

The crows hopped at their feet bickering. Apparently they were deciding jurisdiction.

"What are you doing here?" The younger man took up a defensive stance.

"I'm looking for my killers." The Aztec stood ready, but held his anger back. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing the same." The second dead man frowned. "I wasn't aware this was a joint venture."

"I don't think it is." He gestured at the birds still arguing over the precedent. "But I was here first, so this is my mission to carry out."

"Think again." Tom Kim threw himself through the skylight with a sudden charge. He dropped to the dance floor below, narrowly missing the altar he had set up when he was alive.

The crows looked up at the dead man still on the roof. He closed his eyes. Of course, his counterpart would go for the dramatic entrance. He should have expected that.

One of the crows took flight and dropped into the club, gliding to the altar, before deciding on the bar top.

The other crow called with anger before descending into the dance hall. It took up a position on one of the cross bars holding the ceiling lights in place.

The dead man looked at the confusion caused by his counterpart and shook his head. How would he find his prey now? The room was full of people wondering what was going on. He dropped down to the floor, ignoring the snap in his leg. It healed by the time he had straightened up and started for the private rooms at the back of the club.

He walked through the crowd as the younger revenant kicked the altar over. He frowned but said nothing. Memories filled the air, and he needed to keep to the now. He knew why the other dead man had kicked over the stone block.

Security rushed to the scene. One of their number had already been used for a punching bag. Now someone was wrecking the place. They would be out of a job if they didn't put a stop to things.

He let the younger dead man rush to attack the defenders. He wanted to talk to his murderers. He wanted to show them that he was ready to put them down again.

And he didn't need to express his anger on mortals who didn't know what was going on. Let the younger generation do that.

He ignored the cries of pain as he walked to the back of the club. He hopped the bar and went to a door marked private next to the bathrooms.

He smiled. He was getting the language of this new time. He supposed it was all the memories he was listening to while he walked.

He opened the door marked private. Two men looked up at him. One was ordinary, dressed in a jacket and shirt. He sat behind the desk, looking confused. He glared at the interruption.

The other man was the man who had got through the doormen. He wore a black coat over black clothes. He gave the dead man a speculative look, but didn't move.

"I would like to talk to the owners." The dead man felt those were the right words. He only had bits of memories to sort through for what he wanted to say.

"As I was telling the detective, the owners aren't here." The man in the suit gestured with a hand to indicate their problems wasn't his problems. "They'll be in tomorrow."

The office door crashed in. The third dead man stalked inside. His crow dropped on a lampshade.

"Where are they?" He glared at the meeting.

"Not here, Tom." The man in black frowned at the striped faces.

"How do you know me?" Tom grabbed his arm. Memories flashed back and forth. He staggered back from what he had gathered. The man in black barely changed expression.

Hell tended to dampen down the horror of what happened to the living.

"Let's go somewhere and talk." The man in black waved the dead men out of the office. "Mr. Rooney will want to talk to his boss without us around."

"Bosses." The Aztec frowned at the manager. "There are four of them."

"I didn't know that." He put his hands in his coat. "Shall we?"

The crows dropped to the desk and glared at the manager. He held up his hands at the gimlet stare they gave him. They flew from the office. Their wards followed silently. The detective followed last, stepping over the remains of the door.

"How are you alive, Tom?" The man in black looked around at the damage done to the club. He frowned at the bouncers. Some of them had obvious broken limbs.

"What does it matter?" Kim glared at the man in black, and then the other revenant. "They're not here."

"I think it will matter to your family." The man in black gestured for the dead men to use the front door.

"As soon as I'm done, I won't be here any more." The decorator frowned. "My family will never know that I came back, or that I left again."

"That's the way of the crow." The Indian nodded. "Once we have avenged our wrongs, we return to the other world."

"You're dead too, but a crow didn't bring you back to avenge some wrong." Kim paused on the street to look at the man in black. "The things I saw in your mind were bad."

"My name's Ezekial Stone." The man in black smiled just a little. "I signed a deal to get a second chance if I can hold up my end of the bargain."

"What happens if you can't?" The Indian listened to his crow call to him.

"I go back and take my punishment." Stone shrugged. "These four men. What can you tell me about them?"

"They are priests worshiping the Xoatilocal. They torture their sacrifices before cutting out their hearts and giving it to their pool of blood." The dead man looked at the ground. "I killed them once a long time ago. The world has changed much since then."

"I want to kill them now." Kim glared at the other two. "I want to make them pay for what they did to Rin."

"Since they are like me, that might be harder than you think." Stone wasn't going to trust these two with the way to killing their enemies. He didn't trust Kim not to turn on him and try to get rid of him first. "They escaped from Hell. That's why I got offered the deal to bring them back."

The Aztec realized that was why he had been asked to return. He had avenged his and his wife's murders, but the perpetrators were trying to elude punishment.

He felt the flame spurt in the banked coals of his anger. He wanted to rip things apart until he knew where to look, but he willed himself to patience. He was out of his debt in this modern world.

"Where are they now?" Kim broke in. "That's what we need to know."

"They will flee now that they know someone is looking for them." The older dead man said. "They won't have forgotten what I did to them."

"Rooney is probably calling them right now." Stone checked his watch. "I have to make a phone call. You two stay right here. Maybe I can come up with something we can use."

"What are you doing?" Kim's crow hopped on a parked car. It looked angry to Zeke.

"I know an expert. He might be able to give us something." He walked down the street in search of a pay phone. Egon might be able to give him a clue to what a Xoatilocal was, and how to stop it.

If he could bag all four, that would be four less of the 113 to worry about.

He found a bank of pay phones next to a small store that was a more occidental version of the Kims' store. He put in a stack of quarters he got from a laundry change machine for this call. He hoped the Ghostbusters could tell him something. He doubted the avengers were going to wait on him for long.

They both had the look of people who wanted to rip things apart.

"Ghostbusters." A female voice sounded from the telephone. "We're ready to believe you."

"This is Zeke Stone. Is Egon there?" What had they found out about the pictogram?

"They're blowing up City Hall." The reply was so deadpan, he couldn't tell if she was being sincere, or not. "He left me some notes for you."

"Go ahead." Stone glanced around. He didn't see the crows, or their wards. That might be bad.

"The drawing you asked about is the word for hummingbird. It represents one of the Aztec gods. He supposedly led the Aztecs south to found Mexico City, and their empire. Some of the sources said the early tribes that went south left something buried in their original land. Some of the priests still worshiped it despite an injunction against it." She paused as if trying to read something foreign. "The Malevolent Spirits of Pre-history said it's called Xoatilocal."

"Any ideas where this thing is buried?" Stone didn't like the fact that the priests were worshiping a thing left in the ground. Maybe they wanted to wake it up for future favors.

"No one does." The secretary harrumphed. "You would have to lived then to know, and that was centuries ago."

He wondered if the priests knew where their god was buried.

"Thanks for the information." Zeke hung up the phone. How did he go about finding the exact place the fugitives would go to so they could realize their plans?

The migration had covered thousands of miles from the sound of it. Where had it began? Was this thing still alive up there? Did it matter as long as the priests were feeding it hearts?

Where had the avengers gone?

7

Tom Kim followed the dead man through the city. It was easy enough to do. His crow showed him the path the Indian was taking as it soared ahead.

He seemed to be heading out of Los Angeles toward the mountains and Sacramento.

The fact that the old dead man was using a truck to cover ground was not lost on him. Somehow he had mastered the technique of car hopping on the freeway.

Tom decided he needed transportation to follow the dead man. Obviously he knew where his enemies were. He could not be allowed to kill the four men. That was Kim's right alone.

He grabbed the back of a van as it passed. It was going the right direction. He ignored the snap in his arm as he held on. He climbed up to the roof of the vehicle and looked around.

He took a moment to calm down. His anger was clouding his judgement. He pulled it back as he thought of a plan to catch up.

He needed to drive. His car was at his parents' place. He had avoided going there because he didn't want them seeing him like he was. He should have picked up the car anyway.

He wondered if he should steal a car. Did his mission statement cover that?

Too bad the four murderers hadn't left a home address where he could visit them and show his displeasure at what they had done.

The only address they had given him for his bill was the club. He doubted Rooney would know where they lived. They had ordered him around like a servant the whole time the club had been set up. It was doubtful they would trust him with anything.

The dead man jumped from the truck over the side of a overpass. He fell to the street below. Tom shook his head. Why had he done that?

Tom dropped from the van and ran over to the edge of the overpass. He leaned over the metal tube that served as a railing. His counterpart had hitched another ride heading east.

Tom dropped over the rail, aiming for the sidewalk next to the road. He landed with a snapping of his legs. They healed as he righted himself. He ran forward and jumped on the back of the car.

Where was the dead man going? What was out to the east? Why would he be heading in that direction? What did he know?

Why was the driver of this car driving so slow?

Tom wanted to drag the guy out and leave him on the street.

He saw a faster moving car coming up. He waited for the car to pass, then jumped to the roof. He caught his balance against the slipstream and smiled because his car was going faster than the truck the dead man was riding.

He waited for his car to slide up beside the truck. He leaped and grabbed the roof of the trailer. He pulled himself up.

The Indian waited, watching the horizon. His clothes looked like they had been stolen from a thrift shop. Tom couldn't brag. He had taken his from his brother's boxes in the attic of the store.

"Where are we going?" Tom felt the anger radiating off the other man, but he was holding it in check better than Kim could.

"Before this modern age, giants walked the earth." The Indian smiled. "One such is buried to the east of us according to the old stories. I believe that is where my enemies wait for me."

"You're enemies?" Tom felt his anger boil over. Memories assaulted each other. He stepped back with what he had seen. "You got to cross over? Why come back?"

"The crow summoned me." The Indian gestured at his companion, clinging to the steel. "They returned, so must I."

"Stone's memories say they are more of them out there than this." Tom sat down. "What about them?"

"Those are not my concern." The Indian stared at the horizon. "They have their own hunter."

"Stone is one of them." Tom stayed away from the memories he had taken from the hunter. "He has already killed several of these monsters."

"Being a good tracker was probably why he was picked to find these dead men." He held up his hands to frame the skyline. "He is like us, dead but still bound to seek revenge for wrongs done."

Tom closed his eyes. He watched the scenes of Stone confronting his wife's rapist, and then dying. Then his punishment beyond the vale. Had he deserved that? Did one bad decision make up your afterlife?

What would he do to avenge Rin? He knew that he could have easily done what Stone had done if he lived. Now he was doing the same thing as Stone except he was an avenger from beyond the grave.

They were more alike than he wanted to admit.

His crow settled on his shoulder. It waited for them to reach their destination. It was the summoner, but it didn't control what its ward did. The revenants had to walk their own way with little guidance.

"The world has changed so much since I was alive." The dead man looked around. "We would never have dreamed of things like these machines."

"What about your wife?" Tom could only think of Rin on the altar. It filled his mind with blackness.

"She waits for me, and I want to be done with this so I can join her." The dead man frowned. "I know that the life we had is different from this one of yours, but it was ours. We loved each other. We hoped to grow old and have a family. We dreamed of living our lives together. To be killed by these vermin is nothing compared to what they did to her. That is why they must pay."

"Rin and I wanted the same things." Tom closed his eyes. "We had to live with the disapproval of our families. We worked for our future. It was coming true like a fairy tale. Then they killed her for some thing that might not even be real."

The dead men fell silent. Their similar stories and the memories called from them made them almost the same man despite the mass of years and experiences they each had.

"Where are we going?" Tom doubted that they were going to Las Vegas for the tables and showgirls.

"I don't know yet." The Indian raised his hands again. "Much has changed since I died."

Tom wondered what he was looking for in the darkness. City lights were everywhere. Car lights streaked by. The stars were faintly visible in the east. What could be out there?

The dead man leaped from the truck, startling his crow, and his counterpart. He ran to the median walling in the lanes. He waited for a set of cars to fly by before running across the other three lanes to jump the railing and vanish in the dark.

His crow took off as soon as he jumped, calling after him.

Tom jumped to his feet. His crow followed the others with a surge of its wings. He leaped down to the street, missing a car as he landed. He ran to the median and glared in the darkness. He jumped over the concrete barrier and dodged traffic to get to the other side of the highway.

He jumped the guardrail and fell down into a gully. He looked up and his counterpart was flying through the wilderness as silent as smoke.

He started up the hill, more graceful dead than he had ever been alive. He found that he was still slower than the older dead man. He tried to pull himself up faster with the help of tree trunks.

The dead man paused at the top of the hill. He took bearings and headed up toward more hills in the distance.

Tom struggled to keep up. He knew his dead body was capable of feats of superhuman strength and speed. How was the Indian leaving him behind?

He caught up when the dead man paused to take a bearing. He followed the man's gaze up at a mountain bare of trees around the top. It was high enough to have snow. A small light blinked as they watched.

"People?" The blinking light looked like a house light to Tom.

The Indian started forward. He looked for an easy trail to climb. He found a sheer wall after several minutes of walking. He started climbing, pulling himself up with his unnatural strength.

Tom shook his head. There had to be an easier way to get up to the top from where they stood. Otherwise how did the priests get up there if that was where they went?

He jogged around the base of the mountain top until he found a road. He supposed it was for wildfires. He climbed a tree and looked around. It looked like the road headed up the mountain a series of s-curves. He couldn't see what was at the top from where he was.

He dropped out of the tree and started jogging up the road. He left the road when it turned, slipping into a small valley and climbing out the other side. He crossed the road and did the same to the gap there. He noted the gap was bigger, and realized soon enough he would have to climb it like the Indian was climbing the wall in the back.

He decided to work his way up the mountain in a straight line. His strength and speed should compensate for having to climb up the other side of the valleys.

He hoped it would in any case.

Tom went as fast as he could, trying to beat his counterpart to the top of the mountain. He found several easy paths to help him along. His crow called to him from ahead, winging from tree to tree.

He reached the end of the road. It led into a clearing near the base of the mountain top. A ranger cabin and watch tower stood against the backdrop of the stone giant. They looked abandoned at first, but a jeep had been pulled in next to the cabin.

I wonder if anybody is home.

Tom smiled as he walked toward the cabin. This could all be over tonight. He would be with his Rin. He would leave this life behind.

He wanted to rip their hearts out with his bare hands. It was the justice they deserved.

He went to the jeep and felt the hood. It seemed cold to him. Unless Rooney called them, they didn't know he had come back yet. He would have the element of surprise on his side.

He went to the cabin's front door and kicked it down. It was time to end this chase. No one was in the cabin's one room.

Where had they gone? He backed out of the cabin, looking for a trace of memory.

He started toward the knob of a mountain top. Maybe they had gone up there to do whatever resurrected monsters did after carving out someone's heart.

The crow flew ahead of him, hopping along tree branches. Nothing moved as far as it was concerned.

He skulked through the shadows. The night held no fear for him. He was invincible.

He spotted one of his murderers coming toward him. He stepped out of the shadows to confront the man. He would kill this revenant, and then his partners.

"A crow, and a dead man." The murderer frowned. "It looks like Ocuil was right."

"I'm sure he wins the no-prize." Tom wondered if decapitation would work on his enemy. "It's time for you to go back to Hell."

"We have too much work to do for that." His eyes glowed. "Another dead man stopped us before, but now we can't be stopped by any earthly power."

"That's what I'm here to do." Tom leaped forward. An explosion of flame shaped like a panther struck him midleap and bore him to the ground.

"Hell gave us powers while we were there." The priest pulled the remains of his shirt and jacket away from his body and threw them to the ground. "It makes you more like it the more you're there. I will deal with you well enough, crow born."

Tom shoved his way through the image of the cat. His borrowed clothes caught fire as he stood. He jumped forward at the head of a trail of flames.

"Let's ante up then." Tom hit his murderer and they both fell to the ground.

8

Ezekial Stone thought as he walked away from the phone bank. He needed a direction to follow. His best clues had vanished while he was checking in with his experts.

Where would he go if he was a killer priest escaped from Hell?

The ancient buried god in the hills was interesting to him. It suggested a location to search. The problem was no one knew where the thing was buried.

The partners would know. That was the whole reason they had decided to stick around instead of going home. They knew their god was still locked down.

What would he do if he planned to stick around and cut people's hearts out?

Evidently they had committed their murders in the night club considering what the revived Tom Kim had done to their centerpiece. It was a good place to select a couple and get rid of them. And it probably reminded them of home.

Why had they killed their interior designer?

Zeke paused in his walk.

Why had they killed their interior designer?

What about the other two couples? Why were they picked? Zeke had assumed they had frequented the club. Maybe he had been wrong about that.

Maybe they had been picked for their connection to the priests. That left him with a problem. How did he find out what the connection was?

Zeke pictured the story of the first couple's murder in his mind. He scanned the lines of text in his mind. He picked out that the man had owned a small construction company, while the girlfriend had been a student and waitress.

The news hadn't been able to cover the third couple yet. Had they performed work for the Aztecs?

Zeke needed a car. Now that he had an idea, his time would be spent traveling and trying to prove it. He didn't have a lot of time if he wanted to catch up with the avengers. They seemed to know where their enemies were, or could track them down.

That memory trick could provide them with clues that he didn't have. They were on foot too, but he had an idea that it wouldn't be much of an obstacle to them.

Maybe he should boost one of the bouncer's cars to get around town.

He smiled but decided that would be a little much.

Zeke decided that he could walk some of the way, maybe hitch a ride where he could. He needed to get across the city and check into the construction company. Maybe they had done more than work on the club. It was the only lead he had at the moment.

He had the address of the company office in his notebook. He had written it down as a matter of course. He hadn't thought at the time he would have to break into the place.

He cut across in the straightest line from the Beverly Hills section toward south L.A. He used several buses to cross some of the area as he thought about his next move. He could be wrong about his assumption.

He found himself with two paths. If he could get into the construction company's files, he might be able to come up with a lead to his fugitives. If he got in and couldn't find anything, then he was at a dead end until he could look into the third couple's things.

He had been a good hunter of men when he was alive. He knew that much hadn't changed in the years he was in Hell. How could it? You were stuck the way you were when you died.

If all else failed, he could go back to the club and wait for them to show up if the avengers didn't kill them first.

If that happened, he wondered how the Devil would take it.

He would probably use it to try and default their deal.

Zeke found the construction company's office. He paused at the fence around the property. He counted four trucks in the lot with Good Guys Construction on the doors. The lights were out in the windows. The fence had a locked gate to keep people out.

He climbed the fence and dropped down to the other side in a few seconds. He noted an equipment shed as he went to the small house that had been converted to an office. He glanced around and then broke the dead bolt and regular lock out of the frame. He entered quietly.

He noted the alarm on the wall. He had a few minutes before the police arrived. He had to hurry if he didn't want to be delayed.

The police would frown on his searching a victim's business for clues to his murderers. That would lead to a stay downtown while they tried to figure him out. He didn't have that much time.

He looked through the building, finding file cabinets. He pulled open the one marked with H despite a lock trying to stop him. He rifled the invoices until he found something for the club. He snorted at the Azteca Enterprises responsible for paying the billing.

He went to the A cabinet and yanked that open. He didn't find anything under Azteca. He concentrated on the cabinets, willing them to give him an answer.

He went back to the Hummingbird invoices and reexamined them. He found the Good Guys had worked on some project in the mountains. He smiled. Maybe that was the clue he needed. He memorized the address.

Now how did he get there?

Zeke looked around for a second. A pegboard had been mounted by the front door. He saw truck keys were placed on the hooks. They had little tabs with numbers on them. He pulled one set off their hook and headed for the lot. He found the truck and got behind the wheel. He drove over to the gate, got out, pulled the lock off, got back in and drove out on the street. He headed away like someone who should be driving a truck through town.

He got on the highway and headed east into the brushfire country. The address was a rural route headed up some mountain on the outskirts of town.

Stone drove carefully to avoid rousing suspicions from the LAPD, or CHIPs. Eventually they would figure that he had stolen a truck from the lot. He just didn't know how long it would take for them to put it together. He had to be within walking distance of the address before they closed in on him.

How far ahead were the avengers? Did they know where the four priests were? Could they deal with the murderers? Did he want them to?

Stone decided it didn't matter who stopped the fiends. They had to be stopped before they ripped the hearts out of another couple. That was nonnegotiable.

If it gave the Devil a chance to renege on their deal, he would have to live with it. He doubted the dead men would be sent back to their rest without a fight, and he didn't plan to do that.

He stopped to get a map so he could check out the approaches to the top of the address. He could cut across country, or use a long driveway to drive up to where the Good Guys had worked. He decided to drive up partway and walk the rest.

The sound of an engine would give him away long before he reached the house, or whatever had been built.

Stone drove along, eyes flickering to the mirror for signs of pursuit as he went. He found the driveway he wanted and turned in. He drove as far as he dared, then cut the engine. He got out and looked up the drive. He started jogging upwards.

He heard a bird croak ahead and knew he was on the right path. One of the revived victims was ahead of him somewhere.

He pulled his pistol and moved ahead as silently as he could. He suspected that the two sides were about to meet. He should be there to tip the scales his way.

He made his way through the trees just off the drive, eyes on the top of the mountain. A flash of fire sparked for a moment. It looked like he was too late.

Stone hurried toward the flash. He wondered what was going on. He had a feeling that one of the priests had learned a new trick in Hell.

He found Tom Kim and one of the Aztecs struggling on the ground. The Korean was on fire. He didn't seem to mind. He was too busy trying to choke his enemy out.

A cloud of fire shaped like a big cat slapped the avenger away with a fiery paw. He rolled to his feet. Anger burned in his eyes as his skin regenerated.

"You can't stop me." The priest smiled. A hole in his chest glowed. "I escaped from Hell."

Stone lined up his shot and fired twice. The bullets ripped through the priest's eyes. Flames blasted from his skull as he burned away. The hunter waited as the tattoo representing the fugitive boiled away in a puff of smoke.

One down, three to go.

9

The dead man climbed the side of the mountain. Not many memories drifted to him from the stone as he pulled himself upwards. His hands secured grips where none should be because of his unnatural strength.

He paused when he reached a niche in the stone face. He felt the hand of man shaping this cut out of the rock. He slid inside, working his way until he stood on a ledge inside the stone face. He paused to consider his next move.

Other ledges revealed windows. The night sky glowed in the cut outs. Braziers cradled small fires to light the room better than starlight. Three of his enemies stared at the metal door on the other side of the bare room.

The dead man dropped down to the floor, ignoring the snap of his legs. He kept his balance as his bones knitted together enough for him to move. His companion remained on the ledge, staring at the enemy with baleful eyes.

"Hello." He crossed his arms as they turned on him.

"You again?" One of the priests scowled. "I see we will have a second chance to take your heart."

"Your resurrection is over." The dead man smiled, the black bars on his face splitting his visage in three. "Even if you can stop me, someone is here from Hell to take you back."

"The Devil's lackey is as helpless to stop us as you." The spokesman tossed his head. "You can't kill us. You will be stuck here forever trying."

"I think you overestimate what being dead and alive really means." The dead man scratched his brow. "Just because I can't kill you doesn't mean I can't inflict pain."

"The opposite is also true." The priest pulled his shirt apart to reveal a hole in his chest. "Check on Ocuil while I deal with this reminder of our deaths."

The other two fugitives went to the metal door. They threw the bolt so they could leave the room. One of them looked back in doubt. They should attack in unison and deal with this threat for good.

The dead man smiled. He didn't look like an avenger from the dead. He looked like a bum from anywhere.

The priest smiled back. Light burned from his chest. A winged lizard leaped from the hole in his chest. It burned the air as it attacked.

The dead man stepped out of the way. He charged forward. Flame would hurt him, but not enough to stop him from completing his mission.

The priest pulled a knife as his fire essence circled to attack the nameless Aztec. He slashed with the blade to keep his former victim back.

The dead man blocked with a forearm, trying to press the knife back into his enemy. He brought his other hand down in a punch aimed at the wide face in front of him. The opposite hand fended off his blow.

They struggled against each other for precious seconds. Their dead strength matched each other as they pushed without a sound.

The dead man twisted and yanked. His enemy crashed into the ground. He kicked his enemy while he was down. The priest flew into the wall.

He didn't have the knife. He shook his head. He wanted to cut his enemy to pieces despite his new invulnerability.

The priest stood, knife in hand, before the avenger could close on him. Hell had given him a measure of speed during the years of his punishment. He swept the knife back and forth to ward off his enemy.

The dead man waited, looking for an opening. Tom Kim would have to handle the other two on his own.

"You can't stop me from accomplishing my goals." The priest started to circle. "Why don't you leave?"

"As long as you walk the earth, my anger will burn." The dead man barely turned, ready for the charge. "You must be put down again. There can be no peace between us."

"Too bad for you." The priest came in swinging the glass blade low. He would cut the legs from this reminder of failure, and then slice him apart to keep him helpless while they got rid of him.

The dead man grabbed the arm with the knife with one hand. He grabbed the man's head with the other. He showed him the faint memory of the bridge of clouds that he retained. The murderer froze at the memory flooding his mind.

The dead man drew back his hand and plunged his fingers into the eyes of the priest. Red flames burst from the skull of the enemy, scorching his fingers before he could pull them back. He shook his hand, letting the skin heal as his enemy boiled away in the air.

"If you had learned your lesson, you would have been allowed to see it in person." The dead man picked up the knife. He still had three more enemies to deal with, but he thought it likely that he wouldn't have to do anything at all.

He walked to the doors at the other end of the cavern. They didn't hold any interest to him. His resurrection had thrown whatever plans his murderers had into disarray. The hellhound had been a bonus to the destruction of their plans.

He pushed the metal gates out of the way. The hellhound and his counterpart were engaged with the other two priests. Burning beasts issued cries of vengeance as the four dead men struggled for the upper hand.

The dead man flipped the knife in his hand. He would have to end this confrontation with the glass blade.

He moved forward and stabbed the priest struggling with the hellhound in the back. He did that so fast his hand seemed to vanish for a second as the blade opened several wounds that started to close up as soon as he pulled the knife out.

The pain was enough to make the priest falter. He turned at the sudden attack. He raised his hands to swing the knife in his hand. His eyes erupted from bullets punching through the back of his head and out the front.

The hunter stepped back as smoke escaped the collar of his shirt. He turned to face the last enemy.

The last priest looked at his three opponents. He had been even matched with the younger avenger. He doubted he could take three enemies with the same durability as himself. He backed up to allow a swarm of hummingbirds to escape from his chest. They dove for the trio on wings of sparks.

The dead man sliced through the flying fireballs with the glass knife. His hand caught fire from the splash of their deaths. He ignored the pain as he pushed through the attack.

This last enemy was all that stood between him and returning to his rest. A flock of firebirds was not going to stop that. He planned to be rid of his enemy once again.

His counterpart leaped from across the room. His body splashed through the hummingbirds, burns flaking away as soon as the fire touch faded. He hit the priest in the chest and knocked him to the floor. He began to punch as they slid on the stone. A column of fresh birds flung him clear.

The dead man batted away any that got close. The younger avenger seemed to be having problems with a hole through his torso. The wound was closing, but not fast enough.

The hellhound fired with his weapon. The bullets sliced through the priest, flipping him back. One hit the man's left eye, throwing sparks in the air as he rolled away from the impact.

The avenger threw the knife in his hand. He wasn't actively aiming, but his body knew what to do. The glass blade sliced into the priest's right eye. Fire boiled the air as the fugitive collapsed to the stone floor.

The dead man looked at his temporary companions. They had come through with holes in their clothes, and a little pain. He supposed that couldn't be helped.

He sat down against the wall. His job was done. The crow waited to take him back. It landed beside him but didn't touch him.

It only wanted the part that no one else could touch.

"What about you two?" The hellhound put away his weapon. He couldn't kill either of the avengers with the bullets in it.

"We're done." Tom Kim sat down. His attendant settled on his shoulder. It cackled slightly in impatience. "We're going back to where we belong."

"What about your folks?" The hunter waved at the distant city. "They would like to talk to you again."

"I can't do that." The younger man rubbed the crow on his shoulder. He smiled. "My job is done. I have to go back. That's the nature of things. There are tons of stuff I want to say to them, but that isn't going to happen."

The dead man gestured with one hand. He reached and grabbed the hellhound's hand. He gave the man his memory of the after life as he fled the living. He heard the beating of wings as the light and clouds surrounded him.

"You got a chance." Kim closed his eyes. "Don't blow it like you did the first time."

"What do you mean?" The words fell on dead ears. The hunter scratched his arm as he looked around the battlefield. He wondered if there was a dead god buried under the mountain.

What could he do about it?

The crows took flight, heading for the empty chamber. They sailed through the openings in the wall. They bickered as they vanished in the night sky.

The hunter looked at the finally dead man, the pile of bones, and the shifting dust that used to be escapees from hell. He shook his head as he walked toward the mouth of the cavern. He should at least call the parents and tell them he had found their son's body. Maybe they would like that after their pain.

He pushed against the vision he had been granted. It had hinted that his reasons for agreeing to the Devil's deal had been more selfish than altruistic. He had gone over that in his mind many times. He had wanted to be with his wife and that overrode anything else.

And now he couldn't even be with her as long as Ash could hurt her to get to him.

He put the thought aside. He had to get back to town and let others know where Tom had wound up after taking off. It was the best he could do in this situation.

He could think about trying to atone for his past mistakes when he was sure what they were.

The End


End file.
